


Yuriositting

by taylor_tut



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Could be platonic, Could be romantic, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Sick Character, Sick Yuri, Sickfic, Yurio, and it's yurio, guess what you have a son now, it's all however you want to read it, my son - Freeform, very mild relationships, victor's son, yurio is everyone's son, yuuri's son - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 15:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14264481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Just a simple little Yurio sickfic for a friend's birthday on tumblr!





	Yuriositting

Otabek frowned as Yuri touched his hand down to the ice again. This was usually Yuri’s specialty, a jump he bragged about having perfected, but something was off today.

“We should take a break and let Yuuri and Viktor practice, yeah?” he prompted, taking Yuri by the elbow.

“What?” Yuri said indignantly, “no, I can--I can do it; I do this every day. I can do the jump.” 

Otabek smiled sincerely, so small that no one but Yuri would even be able to see it as anything but a facial twitch. “I know you can,” he reassured, “but look.” He gestured toward Viktor and Yuuri, who were practically climbing over the side of the rink to get on the ice.

“It’s our turn!” Yuuri cried, “you’ve run your routine so many times!”

Reluctantly, Yuri let Otabek take his hand and hold it all the way off the ice. The music swelled for Yuuri and Viktor’s routine, aggravating Yuri’s already pounding headache. He grimaced and pressed against the bridge of his nose.

“Are you feeling well?” Otabek asked. “You look pale.” 

Yuri nodded, pretending to be absorbed in watching the two idiots perform--which was always  _ disgusting _ , as they broke off after any slight variance in the routine to laugh or place a kiss on one another’s cheeks. It was meant to halt the conversation, but instead, it gave Otabek the opportunity to place a hand on Yuri’s forehead and check his temperature.

“Hmm,” he hummed cryptically, but before he could elaborate further, the worried gesture had caught Yuuri’s attention and he was already skating to the side of the rink.

“Yurio? Are you okay?” he asked, frowning. 

“Yurio is feeling ill?” Viktor added. Yuri rolled his eyes at how fast this was escalating.

“It’s just a headache,” he bit, “from being around idiots.”

Otabek shook his head. “You have a fever,” he added. “You  _ are _ ill.”

Well. That wasn’t exactly surprising to Yuri, given how exhausted and achy he felt, but he was hoping against hope that he was just tired, and in any case, he wasn’t keen on anyone coddling him.

“Oh, Yurio,” Yuuri cooed, “if you’re feeling sick, you shouldn’t be working yourself like this. You should be in bed resting.”

Otabek nodded in agreement, fishing in his athletic bag for his cell phone to call an Uber. “I can take him home,” he offered, but Yuri grabbed his phone and pocketed it. 

“No,” he denied, “you have dinner with your coach tonight.”

“I can skip,” Otabek insisted, but Yuri wasn’t having any of it.

“You will not,” he said, his tone serious and leaving no room for doubt that he  _ would _ have the final word on the subject. “I can take a cab myself.” 

Viktor pulled him in close, rubbing his cheek to Yuri’s head affectionately. “Of course, we will take him home with us, won’t we, Yuuri?” 

Before Yuri could fight them off, Yuuri was on his other side, snuggled just as closely against him. “We’ll make sure he’s taken care of, Otabek,” he promised, frowning when he stopped cuddling for long enough to really feel Yuri’s warm skin against his own. He pushed Yuri’s hair from his face and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Yuri’s. Yuri closed his eyes, reluctantly enjoying the cool touch. 

“Oh, wow,” Yuuri fretted, “you really  _ do _ have a fever, don’t you?” Yuri snapped back to attention, pink embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he averted his eyes flusteredly. 

“I-I’m fine,” he snapped, “it’s nothing.” He turned to Otabek with desperate, pleading eyes. “Do  _ not _ make me go home with them,” he begged, but he was met with a hesitant frown. 

“I would feel better knowing that you are taken care of,” he admitted. “If you really won’t go with Yuuri and Viktor, then I will have no choice but to cancel dinner.” 

Ugh, the guilt trip. Damn it. 

“Damn it,” Yuri huffed. “Fine. Take me to your place,” he caved, turning a hostile gaze on Viktor and Yuuri, “but no talking, and,” he pried Viktor’s still clinging body off his torso, “ _ no _ touching.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride home was blessedly quiet. Yuuri and Viktor chatted idly in the front, but Yuri was able to lie down in the back seat undisturbed. Off the ice and now fully succumbing to his fate, he really had a moment to take in how he felt, and he realized that he might be in for a worse night than he’d anticipated. 

Everything ached, deeper than just the muscle strain of practice. No amount of foam-rollers and ice baths had a chance at defeating the bone-deep weariness that dragged his whole frame down. To top it off, his head was still pounding even despite the relative quiet darkness of the car. 

He wasn’t sure when he’d closed his eyes, but he opened them to find Yuuri shaking his shoulder gently. 

“Hey, Yurio; we’re home,” he said quietly. Of the two idiots, he was sort of glad it was Katsudon who seemed to be the mother hen. He wasn’t sure he could handle Viktor’s energy right now. “Can you walk?” Yuuri asked. 

What a dumb question. Of course he could walk. He had a cold, not the plague. He snarled as an answer, climbing out of the back seat and--woah.

As soon as he was upright and on his feet, everything spun, and he found himself reaching out blindly for support. Yuuri was catching him under the arms in a second, wordlessly guiding him into the flat. 

His trajectory as they walked was aiming them toward his and Viktor’s bed, which was a hard pass.

“I want the couch,” he tried to bite, but instead of harsh, the words came out slightly whiny, almost polite. 

“Okay,” Yuuri agreed, “you can lie down wherever you want. I just thought the bed might be more comfortable for you to get some sleep.” 

He was just small enough to be able to spread out completely on the couch without any limbs hanging off, a fact that unfortunately did not escape Viktor’s notice.

“Aw,” he doted, “he fits! How cute!” He took out his phone to take a picture, but a glare from Yuri sent a chill up his spine so deeply unsettling that he immediately put it away. 

Yuuri stooped down next to him. “Are you hungry?” he asked. 

Yuri scoffed. “I don’t want to eat anything you make,” he said.  _ Don’t go through any trouble _ , he wanted to add, but knowing Yuuri and Viktor, the insinuation alone that he was putting them out in any way would be more of a battle than it was worth.

“We can order in,” Yuuri offered, but Yuri didn’t reply, instead opting to turn over onto his side and bury his face in the back of the couch. “Or you can just rest,” Yuuri finished lamely. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hadn’t expected to actually fall asleep, and he especially hadn’t expected to have a nightmare. In hindsight, he should have known better--he always had bad dreams when he was sick, but the fact that he could still feel bugs crawling on his skin when his eyes flew open implied that the fever was higher than he thought.

“Yurio?” Viktor called, inching toward him from his spot on the floor, where he’d been playing some kind of quiet card game with Yuuri. Yuri swiped desperately at his eyes--damn it, the bug dreams always made him teary. It wasn’t sad and it wasn’t even that scary, but just upsetting and uncomfortable enough that it made him long for Yakov. “Is everything alright?”

Yuri didn’t answer--he couldn’t, because his stomach was churning and he didn’t trust himself to speak. 

Whatever freaky sixth sense empath bullshit Yuuri possessed was his saving grace as a trash bin was put in his lap just as he gagged. 

Yuuri rubbed his back gently, and Yuri thought that maybe he was whispering something, but he couldn’t quite tell, embarrassment sounding like the ocean in his ears.

When he finished throwing up what little he’d eaten that day, the trash can was mercifully taken away by Viktor and traded for a bottle of water, which he took one sip of, swished around his mouth, and then closed, because it was much more useful pressed icily against his neck than it was in his rebelling stomach.

A cool hand was pressed to his forehead and this time he was too miserable to do anything but lean in.

“That’s really gone up,” Yuuri fretted. “Yurio,” he said, tapping his cheek gently, “you with me?” 

He nodded. 

“Good. I want to give you a fever reducer, but you can’t take it on an empty stomach. Do you think you could stomach a few crackers?” 

He wasn’t sure, but something in the back of his mind reminded him that the alternative was probably calling Otabek for help, so he nodded anyway.

Before he knew it, Viktor was knelt down in front of him, pressing a cracker into his palm. “Eat this,” he said gently, “then you can take some medicine. You’ll feel better in no time.”

Miserably, Yuri reached out for Viktor’s hand before he stood up, tugging him back down. 

Viktor cocked his head like a confused puppy. “You… want me to stay by you?” he verified, and Yuri pointed to Yuuri. “You want us to stay by you?”

He hated how much he wanted them here. They’d never let him live it down.

“Okay,” Yuuri said patiently, and Yuri felt the couch sink a bit as he sat beside him. “Viktor, I’m really worried about that fever,” he said distantly. Yuri couldn’t be bothered to focus as he nibbled the cracker, then felt two tablets in the palm of his hand. 

“You can go back to sleep once you take these,” Viktor smiled. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Yuri glared at his own feet. “You… will never speak of this.”

Both Yuuri and Viktor nodded vehemently, fearfully. Yuri laid down on the couch so that his feet were in Viktor’s lap and his head was in Yuuri’s. They wouldn’t tell a soul.


End file.
